


merry christmas ric122

by guineaDogs



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Prison setting, creepy kyle is back, don't take this seriously, so is stalker stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 21:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17087975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineaDogs/pseuds/guineaDogs
Summary: In the thrilling finale of the MRA Kyle and Stalker Stan epic, the two form a budding romance while they're in prison. Dedicated to Ric122 and his Style Week prompts.





	merry christmas ric122

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhhh so this is obviously a shitpost. Don't read if you're serious about Style, ig, because this isn't Style. 
> 
> For the morbidly curious for related shitposts, [mra kyle (kybe)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16710964), [stalker stan (stoken/stendy)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861930)

There were two rules he had to follow while he was in the Big House. Well,  _ three. _ First: he had to remember that he was still grounded, even though he was incarcerated all the way down in Fremont County. Two: don’t drop the soap. It wasn’t for homophobic reasons, but rather, the tile floors in the bathrooms were disgusting and probably had foot fungus spores all over the place. And three: find the biggest, baddest guy and punch them in the face. 

But Kyle was too much of a pussy to do that. Oh, if this were online — _ if only _ this were online! He could’ve shown everyone what a badass he was, with his intellectualism and ability to use a thesaurus. Alas!

What he could do, however, he decided as he sat on the top bunk, leaning against the wall, was assert dominance over his new cellmate. The last one was some scary fucker who got sent to SHU, and certainly no one could be as bad as some fucker who made his half-brother cannibalize his parents. 

As if right on cue, the new guy turned up. With a mop of thick black hair, the guy pulled off orange jumpsuits way better than Kyle did. He also looked like a shivering chihuahua. In that moment, Kyle swore that he could take him.

The cell door closed behind the guy, who jumped, peering over his shoulder as the CO stalked off. Swallowing thickly, he set his state issued blanket and pillow onto the bottom bunk. “So… hi,” he said, voice wavering. “My name’s Stan. What’s yours?”

Green eyes narrowed and stared him down for but a moment. “Kyle.”

“What are you in for, Kyle?”

This was his chance. Kyle slid off of the top bunk and sucker-punched Stan right in the nose. Stan gasped, cupping his face as blood gushed down his face. Kyle closed the remaining space between them, shoving Stan against the wall as he growled. “You wanna know what I’m in for? The girl I wanted didn’t know I existed so I  _ made _ her notice me. Don’t. Fuck. With. Me.”

Stan responded with a jerk of his knee into Kyle’s soft gut, easily winding the basement warrior. “Oh yeah? Well the cops caught  _ me _ outside of my ex’s...and this guy’s place…” His words slowed as he realized the obvious: they were both the same. They were both fucking  _ creeps. _

They didn’t have a truce, but they had understanding of sorts. Similar actions had landed them here, but how many creeps could exist in a cell block? Kyle felt threatened, and later that night, he decided:  _ there could only be one. _

Kyle devised a plan, and late one night, he finally executed it. He sharpened the end of his toothbrush. Quietly, slowly, until it was sharp enough to be a weapon of sorts. Stan snored on the bottom bunk as he always did, after Kyle slid down onto the ground, he peered over at the sleeping man. And swiftly, silently, like his internet samurai training taught him, he stabbed Stan in the chest.

As the taller, burly man cried out in agony, Kyle scrambled back onto the top bunk before he could retaliate. A rather annoyed CO came to check on them alerted by Stan’s distressed sounds. 

“What the fuck is going on, inmates?”

Stan cried in response.

“He incurred my wrath. I’ve spent my life studying the blade. I only did what was required of me.”

The CO rolled his eyes. He didn’t get paid enough to care about any of this. “Get up, Marsh. We’ll get you a fucking bandaid or whatever.”

But Stan needed more than a bandaid. After all, that toothbrush did more than hurt his body. It hurt his  _ feelings. _ Eventually, Stan returned, feeling rather fussed at his cellmate. “Kyle,” he said.

“What.” 

“You stabbed me in the chest, so I’m going to make you my bitch.”

Kyle scowled at him, but he couldn’t deny the flutter of his chest. He’d always been told he was a bitch, but he’d never been  _ somebody’s _ bitch. “It doesn’t fucking work that way, Stan.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Somehow, they got closer, physically. Standing chest to chest, and abruptly, they kissed. Except it wasn’t so much as lips pressed together as tongues tangling in an exaggerated manner as if they were reenacting  _ BASEketball _ .

But then Stan pushed Kyle away and down onto his knees. Kyle quirked a brow as he looked up at him, an unspoken question of  _ are you asking for what I think you are? _ But before he could verbalize such a thing, Stan spoke. “I know you want this ricc,” he said, in a melodious tone as if he were Kendrick Lamar in an A$ap Rocky song. 

“ _ What. _ ”

“It’s what I call my dick. Stick your head under the bed.”

Kyle was unamused. “What the fuck. Why?”

“Because. Face down, booty up, that’s the way I like to fucc.”

After mulling it over, Kyle really couldn’t find a reason to argue, so he obliged. Scooting closer toward the bed, Kyle leaned over and stuck his head underneath. Stan was immediately behind him, tugging his pants down. As he ran his hands over Kyle’s ass, the redhead sneezed, shifting back against him.

“Why’d you do that,” Stan inquired.

“It’s dusty under here!”

“Don’t worry your pretty little butthole, my wiener is going to make you forget that you were ever allergic to dust.”

“Never say that again.”

Despite Stan’s strange inclinations, the sex was pretty okay as far as prison sex in an open cell where everyone could see went. Even if Kyle  _ did _ kick Stan in this balls as he tried to scramble from out underneath the bunk bed.

But as all things, eventually, their sweet prison romance came to an end. The parole board that Kyle had been sufficiently not creepy, and they supposed it was alright for him to rejoin society. Because, they weren’t a for-profit prison, so there was no point in letting him linger around when they had budget cuts to worry about. 

“I can’t fucking believe that you’re getting out before me,” Stan grumbled as he watched Kyle pack his belongings. “I should fuck things up for you so you have to stay here with me longer.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a cuck, Stan. Besides, if you did that, I’d end up in Max and you wouldn’t see me again anyway.” He paused, glancing over at ex-lover. “Look, when you get out, hit me up. I think I’m gonna move out to Salida. Get a fresh start.” A fresh start, in the sense that the real object of his fixation moved there. Someone who knew someone’s cousin’s sister’s boyfriend said so. 

“Whatever.”

They parted ways. Kyle moved to Salida, got a job, and pretended like he was a functional member of society. He scarcely thought of Stan until a few years later, the man showed up on his doorstep. Or, basement-step rather, as the access to his apartment was a converted window well. 

“Stan! What are you doing here?”

Stan looked earnest and lonely. Of course Kyle let him inside. He didn’t answer the question, instead fixating his gaze on the on the sex doll that was haphazardly laying on Kyle’s futon. It had clothes on, a blonde wig, and the way its mouth mad an O-shape and its nipples perked, Stan supposed it was happy to see him. “Kyle, what the fuck is that.”

Kyle made an insulted sound. “That’s Bebe, Stan. That is  _ my wife _ .” How dare Stan have the audacity to speak about her so disrespectfully! “Why are you here?”

Stan rubbed at his face. “Well… see, you know how I said I got arrested ‘cause I was outside of my ex’s and her boyfriend’s house? When I got out, I decided, well, if I couldn’t get  _ him _ , maybe I can win her back. So I told her I was ready to get her pregnant. We could finally start our life together again, yanno?”

Kyle nodded safely. He understood. That was what he wanted, as well. But it turned out that the real Bebe hadn’t moved to Salida, but he was too broke to leave to find her. So here he was. “What happened?”

“She didn’t give me a baby,” Stan sighed heavily. “Instead, she gave me a restraining order.”

“Aw, buddy. That sucks.” 

“It sure does.”

“But you know what else sucks, Stan?” Kyle said brightly. “I do. C’mere.”  Because if they couldn’t have the girls they were creepy at, they could at least be creepy together.


End file.
